


Lettenhaven

by UlsPi



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ciri ships it, F/F, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Half-Elf Jaskier, Jaskier Is So Good, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Geralt and Ciri are traveling to Kaer Morhen when they begin to hear about the new viscount of Lettenhove. They say he's noble and kind and can help anyone. Not that Geralt is ready to ask for help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 364





	Lettenhaven

The night Geralt fought the striga he thought that he had come as close to the ordeal of labour as any man could have. There was pain, there was responsibility, there was care and regard, there was fear…

Yet the day Geralt met Ciri he felt the last missing part of the whole enterprise - love and the desire to protect and care, the need to make sure the child was safe and sound. The feeling was painful, but Geralt took  _ that  _ pain as a blessing too. Now look at him, he was getting all flowery, just like Jaskier, who he'd better avoid thinking about. Back to hm and fuck and the emotional range of a dead man.

He didn't want to stay at the Yurga's any longer, but Ciri insisted he had to rest and heal. Geralt had thought it was pointless to argue with Jaskier, but Jaskier had been but a preparation for Ciri. Geralt agreed to stay the night. 

Ciri couldn't sleep, so Geralt told her everything he could, and although he was mindful of being accurate and steer away from exaggerating, Jaskier remained in his words, because he was the one good with words, after all. Ciri listened and asked most torturing questions, so Geralt was somewhat ready for her outrage once Geralt's tale reached the dragon hunt. However, no outrage came… Ciri said he had been an idiot with the exasperation Geralt had thought was unbecoming of such a young person. Then he remembered that Ciri had lived through more horrors than anyone, let alone a child, should have to survive. 

In the morning Geralt cut Ciri's hair with a dagger. Zola wordlessly pressed a bowl of beetroot juice mixed with oil into his hands. 

"I could have done it with scissors," the good woman said, having observed Ciri's new look. 

"It's alright," Ciri replied softly. "I must look messy, I suppose." 

"There's messy and there's "a man cut my hair with a dagger"." Zola shook her head but didn't intervene. 

Ciri's signature white hair being taken care of, the pair set off on their journey. Geralt decided he'd take the girl… His daughter… his ward… no, his daughter… the child to Kaer Mohren. The place was unreachable, Vesemir had to know what to do. 

_ Big bad witcher still doesn't trust himself _ , Jaskier's voice said in Geralt's head.  _ When will you learn that you're the best person in anyone's life? Well, unless you want to kill them… then they must have deserved it. On the other hand, Geralt, really, I didn't… _

Geralt swallowed. 

He might grumble and grunt and do whatever it was that best described his speech. ( _ It's called "doing my best to make everyone believe I'm a big scary man and no one can love me". _ ) Nothing brought him more… could it be joy? Nothing else made him tremble and shake, made him feel something light and warm in his stomach other than the sound of that clear and beautiful voice saying his name - warning, calling, reminding, grounding. 

"You miss him," Ciri said just so. Roach whinnied and nodded. Geralt glared at the horse and Roach pushed her head into Geralt's shoulder. 

"Can't miss that walking nuisance," Geralt grunted.  _ Look at you, using the word "nuisance", I'm so proud of you, Geralt. _ Oh, the fuck! The way his name sort of jingled in the bard's mouth. Jaskier was the most celebrated minstrel on the Continent - and he had spent two decades by Geralt's side, chiming Geralt's name, getting into trouble -  _ So that you're reminded what a good, patient person you are!  _

"I do," Geralt admitted.  _ So proud of you, Geralt! Look at you, talking about your feelings!  _ He saw Jaskier's fond smirk and maddening grin and blue eyes, the sweet cornflower of them, the endless expressiveness, the care… Geralt made a movement with his head that made Roach jealous. She wouldn't shake her head so thoroughly even when the flies were involved. 

"I thought… I'd miss Yennefer. I… I'm worried about her." Geralt admitted. 

"Yennefer will be alright," Ciri said with conviction. She was a good rider and a much lighter one than Geralt. Roach seemed to be considering whether Geralt was worthy of ever riding her again. 

"Also, why would you miss her? You know, I can't say I understand all this love nonsense," Ciri began wisely.

_ I like her _ , said Jaskier's voice. Since when had he been thinking in Jaskier's voice?

_ Since we met, darling. Before Posada all your thoughts had been just grunts and self-loathing. _

"Grandma and Eist, they drove each other crazy, Eist actually liked driving grandma crazy, you know?" Ciri continued. She was more maddening than the blue of Jaskier's eyes. "But it made me think that all those love stories, those with passion and Destiny and what not… you want to feel at home with the person you share your life with. Can you imagine sharing a life with Yennefer? Don't get me wrong, she sounds awesome, I'd love to meet her, but she's…" Ciri waved her arms in the air, as if she had been Jaskier's daughter. 

***

Yennefer woke up in a soft bed and in a strange house. She sat up immediately - and immediately regretted it. 

"That won't do, Yennefer," said a familiar voice. Yennefer groaned. 

"That won't do either," Jaskier said and sat on the edge of Yennefer's bed. She wanted to glare at him - and couldn't. On her bed sat the famous bard, yes, that she could deal with. But more than that, there was a naturally born aristocrat next to her, and as such, he seemed to be all dignity and honour, serene and self-depreciating, calm and caring, inspiring awe and wonder, and most importantly, love. 

"You look too well, bard," Yennefer snapped. 

"That's how I was raised to look, sorry." Jaskier flinched. "Don't worry, I'm feeling quite uncomfortable myself. How are you feeling?"

"None of your business," Yennefer snapped again, leaning back on a pile of pillows. 

"You portaled yourself to my land, dear lady, so it  _ is  _ my business," Jaskier replied softly. "I heard about Sodden…"

"You heard nothing, if you don't know about Tissaia and the rest!"

"Indeed… Care to share? No songs will be involved, I can assure you." 

"Somehow I don't believe you,  _ bard _ ."

"That I am," Jaskier said calmly. "A very good one too. But you're here as a guest of the viscount of Lettenhove, which is me, and no amount of rudeness will make me cast you out." 

Yennefer stared at Jaskier. She hadn't known him like this, like something more than Geralt's loyal companion, like someone with power and concern.

"I don't have time for songs anymore. It's not about me, though. What would you have me do?" 

"You're serious, aren't you?" Yennefer asked wearily. 

"As much as I can be, and contrary to what you may think, it's quite a lot." 

"I want to know what happened to my…"

"Yes, these inquiries had been made. So far I got no answer. How about some chicken soup? A good bath? A new dress? Your macrame attire proved to be impossible to rescue." Jaskier smirked. "It was a good dress," he added, serious again. 

"Why would I end up in your land?" Yennefer asked.

"No idea. Apparently your hate for me is that strong." Jaskier shrugged. 

"Where's Geralt?"

"Oh… So, you left, and Geralt lashed out at me. Told me I had been the reason for his misfortune. I'd say the main reason for all his misfortune is his remarkable refusal to use that thick head of his…" Jaskier suddenly smiled, a fond, caring,  _ loving  _ smile. "Anyway, I left him. I was supposed to, you see, my father had died, but I hoped to dodge my responsibilities for a while longer."

"What an arse!" Yennefer said. "I’m disgustingly close to feeling for you."

"It too shall pass," Jaskier answered in mock wisdom. "You're welcome to stay as much as you need. I'd ask you to stay longer, but it's up to you." 

With that he stood up, the ragged lord, the prince of the gutter… Yennefer realised she was envious of his ability to remain so in any circumstances. He was a prince travelling with Geralt, in the most wretched parts of the world… A silly, beautiful prince who brought his brightness and lackadaisical demeanour to every place. 

"What am I to do here?" She asked. 

"Oh, don't give up just yet, my irritating lady," Jaskier teased. "When you're feeling better, when we have reliable news of your friends, then I'll tell you how you might help us, if you choose so, but rest assured, there's no obligation… You don't do well with those anyway, and I do admire it. For now, you should rest. My castle is yours to command…"

"You might regret your generosity."

"Oh, but I'm afraid I might regret the lack thereof much more. Do rest, Yennefer."

***

A few weeks of travelling with Ciri taught Geralt the following: While Jaskier rambled endlessly, he had enough good manners to make sense only occasionally, and so it was easier for Geralt to accept a few important truths. Ciri, on the other hand, made sense all the time. It was exasperating. 

Ciri might have denounced romance, but she dedicated a lot of her thoughts to Geralt's romantic adventures. She didn't call them adventures. She called them everything but adventures. Her main point was that Geralt had been an idiot. Geralt somehow found it adorable. 

Besides! 

The famed bard Jaskier had written a new song, which Geralt and Ciri couldn't avoid. It was something heartbreaking, every singer was determined to let their voice break singing it when the song reached the line  _ I'm weak, my love, and I'm wanting _ . Geralt didn't like it one bit. He was humming it constantly, but he didn't like it. He didn't. 

_ Sure, my dear witcher, Geralt, you don't like it. Let's pretend you don't know what it's about. _

Geralt had no trouble telling anyone to shut up, but he couldn't tell so to Jaskier's voice in his head. It was oddly comforting - just as Jaskier's presence and company had been. 

Yet worst of all was the never-ending tale of the young viscount of Lettenhove who offered refuge and shelter to anyone willing to come to his lands and work them and help the young lordling protect what he considered his. Ciri didn't pay it much attention, but Geralt spent increasing amounts of time thinking that the wisest course of action would be to take Ciri to Lettenhove and let her rest there. Rumour had it Lettenhove had become a stronghold. It was far from the advances of the Nilfgaard army and presumably too unimportant for the invaders to care about while they were busy conquering the Continent. Yennefer had detained them for long enough for anyone willing to make their way either to Lettenhove or further North. They said quite a few people preferred to go to Lettenhove: there was much fertile land there, the viscount was just and a treasure overall…

"I heard that the viscount of Lettenhove and the bard Jaskier are one and the same," Ciri remarked smugly one day. "I think we should go there. You will apologise, I will rest - and meet Yennefer! They say Yennefer is there too!"

***

Yennefer walked around the castle and the viscounty and concluded that Jaskier hadn't wasted his years with Geralt. The land was fortified and protected. Everyone loved Jaskier, pardon, viscount Pankratz; his castle was used to store provisions, the hot springs were redirected to the castle dungeons where everything seemed to be ready for a long siege. The viscount could be seen everywhere, being charming, being diligent, being industrious, being persuasive and being overall inspiring. 

"What is it you're trying to do?" Yennefer demanded after a long excursion.

"Make everyone love me of course," Jaskier replied drily. "And resist Nilfgaard, but just, you know, by the way. This is my home, Yennefer, I was born in this castle, all my strength comes from it. My father made everyone accept that he had married an Elf, exiled anyone who had protested his decision… Neither of them cared about what  _ others  _ might think."

"So… they are not dead?" Yennefer asked.

"They are very much dead, dear lady. When he died, she chose to follow. Don't ask me, I know as little about it as anyone. As their only child I'm supposed to… to keep their way of life, I say. A place for anyone to live and love freely…" Jaskier turned silent and took a few steps away from Yennefer. 

He had been working with his people, he was all sweaty and dirty, he was a good, a truly good lord, someone caring and concerned. 

"I don't love him, you know?" Yennefer said quietly. 

"However important this is, he loves you, and this is something both of us have to make peace with." Jaskier shrugged. A servant came with a pitcher and a change of clothes. Jaskier thanked them and sent them away. "I don't want you to talk about him, my lady. I'm sure there are far more interesting themes of conversation for us to engage in." He was avoiding looking at Yennefer, the sweet idiot. 

"I want to go back to Aretuza," Yennefer said. 

"Of course. You should," Jaskier remarked, smiling, although the smile didn't reach his eyes, didn't fold and crease his crow's feet.

"I think we'd come back. I will come back with more help."

"Whatever you choose, my lady," Jaskier bowed gracefully. 

"I think you deserve more help, your grace. You are here to protect the ones who really need your protection. I see no politics here."

"Oh, that's because I'm so good at tricking you," Jaskier said, his voice breaking. 

"Don't flatter yourself, you can't trick anything." Yennefer shook her head. 

"If I don't flatter myself, there's no one else who'd flatter me in my stead, my furious lady. "Safe travels."

"You don't believe I'll come back!" Yennefer accused. She crossed her arms and glared at Jaskier. 

"Can you blame me, though?" Jaskier asked back. He looked both older and younger. He was exhausted, yet he had more strength in him than anyone else. He wanted a utopia and he had proved to be very talented at being one. He doubted himself, his power, his heart, his desires. Yennefer could relate to that…

"Don't. You have power I can only dream of. You have Geralt. You have everything, Yennefer. I'm glad I could help you. Take care." Jaskier bowed and walked away. 

"I will come back just to spite you!" Yennefer yelled. She heard Jaskier chuckle. He didn't turn around, though. It didn't suit him, Yennefer thought. She had to admit, however reluctantly, that Jaskier had always been the most mature of the three of them. He had accepted, he had adapted, he had known from the very start that whatever passion bound together Yennefer and Geralt, it was an illusion, another manifestation of chaos designed to mock.

And Yennefer had never wanted that kind of passion. It suited someone like Jaskier better but there he was, quietly raging against and for the man he had loved for decades. He had seen them as humans, faulty and often wrong, and he had loved Geralt despite or probably because of it. He was the one to see Yennefer as bitter and Geralt as lonely, and he hadn't reproached either or them for it, he just hated the way their magic-induced affair had ruined what he had been building for years. 

Yennefer hummed. 

Jaskier could have left her to die, but he had saved her and had let her be - something no one had done for Yennefer. He didn't want her, however much she might have helped, he didn't bind her to anything, he didn't claim a debt. Suddenly it was a gift to be unwanted. He didn't spite her, didn't try to convince her to support him. He was remarkable for never trying to bargain with her. That indifference had to be rewarded. 

She cast a portal to Aretuza, intending to come back with anyone who'd listen to her - and she'd make sure they'd listen. 

***

Geralt and Ciri made it to the borders of Lettenhove relatively undisturbed. A young woman armed with a bow greeted them, if that could be called greeting. 

"My name is Geralt of Rivia. I used to…"

"Oh my, you're the white wolf!" The woman lowered her weapon and made an inviting gesture. "I'm sure my lord will be happy to meet you." She let them pass through a narrow passage in a tall wooden fence. Geralt could smell the oil poured over it - it was to be lit at the first sign of danger. There were a few more fences like that along the way.

The guards were mostly obliging, and before long Roach and Ciri had gained a stable boy and fresh food. There were apples for Roach and salted fish for Ciri, as well as vegetables and new clothes. 

After a day of travel the stable boy finally gathered enough courage to approach the Witcher. 

"I'm sorry, sir Geralt, for wasting so much time. The viscount sent these clothes for you. He told me to say to you that… that you'd be reluctant to accept anything from him, so I was… was afraid. But he ordered me to insist… and I was afraid." The boy dropped the clothes at Geralt's feet and returned to Roach and Ciri. 

It took them another day to reach the castle. 

***

Yennefer returned with Triss and Tissaia. Jaskier was genuinely surprised and thanked them all profusely. The three sorceresses made sure the wood of the fences would not diminish for however long they would have to burn. The hot springs under the castle were secured better than any human engineer could have achieved. All pests and mold were cast away and never to touch the provisions stored in the castle. It was a perfect keep now, and there were secret paths and passages secured for anyone within Lettenhove to reach the castle on time. 

For all his busy schedule, Jaskier received his guests as welcomingly as he could. His lute was nowhere to be seen, and he spoke like a master strategist. 

He showed the sorceresses around, showed them the training yard where every person above the age of thirteen and under the age of sixty had been coached how to use every imaginable weapon. They saw the fields and orchards, the farms, the rivers. 

"I came up with a technique to farm fish too," Jaskier said, both proud and humble. "We try to store up as many provisions as we can… I charged a few talented people with digging a few secret wells within the keep. If all goes well, we must be able to withstand a siege as long as four years, or so I am told. I'd be most grateful, if you could check these claims."

"It's all true," Tissaia said sternly. "You've done an admirable job. I say, we fortify the keep even more, even better, and make sure every willing refugee can find a place here. I could only wish every lord had been as industrious as you, viscount."

The viscount didn't want to hear any praises. He could be seen travelling around his land, just an old dirty shirt on him and a lute in his hands. There were Elves, Dwarves, all kinds of creatures on his land, protected and undisturbed.

Tissaia and Triss magically increased the size of Lettenhove so that it could host more and more and more refugees. Anyone trying to voice their prejudice was threatened with an immediate exile. Yennefer admired it. Tissaia, surprisingly, thought it was too harsh. Triss supported Yennefer because… 

Because she loved Yennefer. 

It was something so new, so incomprehensible for the sorceress. She had been admired and feared for her power, had been sought for it, had been bound by it, but Triss just smiled and comforted her at the end of the day. Perhaps that was the thing that tied Geralt and Jaskier together - they had been each other's refuge. One sought to be understood and loved, the other sought just the same, but from a different point. 

Tissaia and Triss were adamant about their stay. Yennefer wasn't ready to give up on Triss' quiet concern and… could it be love? Could it please be love? 

The viscount invited the sorceresses for yet another dinner of salted fish and boiled potatoes and delectably good wine. 

"Thank you, my ladies, for your kind help," he said, raising a glass. "I know you can find a way to stay comfortable without my hospitality, but I would be honoured if you stayed in the castle. Treat it as your home. Please."

"Geralt and princess Cirilla have been seen at your borders," Yennefer muttered. "They are on their way here. Thought you should know," she shrugged. Triss took her hand and looked at her with those warm brown eyes. 

"Cirilla is the key to Cintra," Tissaia began.

"Cirilla is a child!" Jaskier interrupted. "She needs rest, comfort, warmth and a lot of greens!" He winked at Yennefer. "No small amount of love." Now he looked at Yennefer serenely, as if he had understood the deepest desires of her heart. "I'm sure lady Yennefer could be of the greatest help." 

"What do you mean?" Yennefer snapped. Triss squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. 

"I mean that your heart is full of love, of motherly affection. The princess hasn't known it for some time, she could benefit from someone as fierce and valiant as you," Jaskier replied gently. "She's Geralt's child. I was there when she was promised to him. She will have everything she wants." He stood up, just as the dessert of fresh fruit was being served. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm too emotional. Please, enjoy the food." Jaskier slipped away. Triss smiled at Yennefer, and Tissaia took an apple. 

"We're doomed to listen to some lute tonight," she said with false frustration.

"He's a very talented musician," Triss mused. 

"He's an idiot," Yennefer dismissed.

***

It was early in the morning when Ciri and Geralt reached the castle. 

The servants rushed to Ciri immediately: she had to be bathed and fed, her hair needed some professional attention, her clothes had to be mended immediately, and as for Roach, a bushel of apples was waiting for her in the stables…

And as for Geralt… He had a bath prepared for him - and that was all. 

So there was Geralt, soaking in the hot water, drowning in the gentle smells of chamomile and lavender, when the door behind him opened and closed. 

"Hello, Geralt," said the voice of Geralt's thoughts. "I hope everything is to your liking. I just wanted to make sure you're alright." Jaskier walked over to the bath and crouched at the far end of it. Geralt glared at him - he couldn't help it, he could only glare at him, no matter how much he wanted to gaze and stare and yearn and watch Jaskier be the perfect lord of the perfect land. 

"I'm bothering you because… I was worried about you." Jaskier sat by the bath and looked openly at Geralt. "You seemed so lost, so angry at the mountain…"

"I'm sorry," Geralt begged. He wanted something to strangle, to kill, to prove his worth. 

"It's alright, Geralt. I don't know if you care but… I've forgiven you by the time I reached the foot of the mountain. I'd say it doesn't matter. Ciri is alright, she's asleep. She likes my singing. Please, don't joke about it!" Jaskier lifted a warning hand. He took in the dirt and grime, then moved and settled behind Geralt's head. "I say… I have earned the right to wash your hair. Don't say anything, Geralt, you're rubbish with words. Nod or shake your head… I'll still wash your hair, though." He touched Geralt's shoulder - a wet, slippery touch that Geralt had been missing forever. He leaned into Jaskier's palm on his shoulder, pressed his cheek against it.

"I'm… I'm sorry. Even if I'm forgiven, I'm sorry. I should have never… I…"

He could feel the clever fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp and washing away the dust and sweat. 

"I know, my dear heart, my dearest. Yennefer is here, you know. I'm afraid, she's asleep now, but I'm sure she'd pay a visit and…"

"You were dying, Jaskier. You were dying… The way you say my name? It was dying! The way you smiled and teased and behaved like… like the silliest creature in the world… I couldn't handle it!" Geralt grabbed Jaskier's hands, cloth and all, Jaskier staring at him - and glaring - and gazing longingly. 

"So I… She saved you, Jask! She did! I'd do anything for the person who returned you to me! I kept hearing your voice all the time! You were there when you weren't there… I'm not making any sense!"

"Oh love…" Jaskier whispered. "You're making so much sense… I've never heard you make so much sense…" Jaskier was grinning and his eyes were glistening with tears. 

Geralt cupped his face, that noble, humble, maddening face. "I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm so sorry. You were there… you had always been there… and I…"

"You lashed out at me because I was there."

"You… you, Jask, had always been there!" Geralt twisted and turned in the bath to kneel, to face Jaskier. "I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting. I want to hear you sing it."

"Any time you want. Your voice breaks just at the right moment… and you're… you're…"

There would come another time, Geralt thought, when it would be appropriate to tease and humour him, the noble viscount of Lettenhove, the most famous bard, yet Geralt had to kiss him, he had had to kiss him long ago. 

So he did. 

Jaskier let out a lost breath, something restrained and kept safe just for such a night. 

"I… I'm lost without you, Jaskier. My beautiful lord, my noble friend, my loyal darling." Geralt kissed along Jaskier's cheeks and jaw, down his throat.

"Geralt…"

"Yes, like that. I lay down at night and remembered and dreamed… Heard your voice calling me… No one says my name like you do. You're the only one who's happy to see me… you… you…"

"Geralt… Geralt, Geralt, Geralt." Jaskier laughed sweetly. "Geralt."

***

Never could Geralt imagine that he'd attend Jaskier's war council. Jaskier, war and council should have never met in a sentence, unless it said that Jaskier escaped the war council.

"They want Ciri," said Yennefer. Ciri, unsurprisingly, attended the war council too. 

"They do," Ciri nodded wisely. 

"You are safe here," Jaskier said. 

"Until they know where I am," Ciri replied. 

"We all attract too much attention," Tissaia said sternly. I say…"

"I'm staying," Yennefer interrupted her mentoress.

"So am I, then," Triss said. 

"And further endanger you and your people?" Tissaia asked with stern anger.

"We are all in danger just the same. Sooner or later they'll find us. You'd rather I am tortured?" Jaskier asked. Geralt couldn't help grabbing Jaskier's hand. 

"I can portal Geralt and Ciri to Kaer Mohren, since that was their original plan."

"I'm staying," Ciri and Geralt said together. 

"You're all getting soppy!" Yennefer snapped. "Love can wait, fucking can wait. You'll hate each other pretty soon." She shrugged.

"If that's what happened to you, I'm very sorry," Jaskier snapped back at her. "And anyway, my life and my love are none of your business."

"He's right," Ciri chimed in. 

"I'd say Geralt and Triss have to locate the other witchers and portal them here. Kaer Mohren should be the last refuge. A place we could evacuate as many people to as you are capable of." Jaskier opined. 

"I love this plan. I'm the only royalty here, you should all listen to me," Ciri said. 

"Your grandmother would have been proud," Jaskier smiled at her. 

"I have no king," Geralt grunted, but no one believed him. He didn't believe himself either. 

"The sheer idiocy!" Yennefer began.

"It's not," Triss argued pensively. "We could start to portal the provisions and all those incapable of fighting to Kaer Mohren. Do you think Vesemir will help us?" She asked Geralt. 

"I agree with Jaskier…" Geralt started.

"Of course!" Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

"We should find Eskel and Lambert. Should get them here. We could train people… We can start training Ciri too."

"That would be useful, not to mention fun." Ciri moved to hug Geralt, but opted for Yennefer at the last moment. "And you could all take care of me here."

"Oh, princess, you're a menace," Jaskier said adoringly. 

Tissaia looked at everyone wearily. "Just don't fight in front of the kids. Kid. The princess. I'm off to Aretuza, then. I'll do my best to help. Thank you, viscount, for…"

"The pleasure is mine." Jaskier waved Tissaia's gratitude away. She conjured a portal and stepped into it. 

"Now…" 

"I don't agree with any of you," Yennefer said. "But… you're all idiots and I'm not leaving Ciri to you."

"Of course you're not," Ciri said. "We're good, right?"

"Brilliant!" Jaskier agreed. 

Geralt just grunted - but tenderly. 


End file.
